


Brightstar

by violet_strange



Category: Succession (TV 2018)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Post-Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:55:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21841768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violet_strange/pseuds/violet_strange
Summary: Roman goes to New Jersey to preside over the Parks/Cruises divorce.Set after series 2, contains some vague spoilers.
Relationships: Gerri Kellman/Roman "Romulus" Roy
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	Brightstar

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fleurlb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleurlb/gifts).



> _Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art—_

Even the weather was untrustworthy these days. The app had promised sunshine, yet here he was watching the fog roll in to obscure the tops of the buildings. Lower Manhattan appeared exhausted, as if the fog had drained the colors from the buildings that surrounded him: a recession made visible, with money and time disappearing into nothing.

That is some fanciful bullshit, Roman thought as he buttoned his jacket. He hurried toward the garage where his driver (beardy with a vape) and the car (Escalade, music venture leftover) were waiting.

"Can you believe they have me going to New Jersey, New fucking Jersey," Roman said, before remembering that he'd recently been told he should start greeting employees by saying "hello" and "how are you". He'd been told by a reliable source that some of the staff thought he was a dick, not in a good way (clever while keeping it real), but in a bad way (Tom). Stop being such a dick to the staff, it makes you look small, his R.S. had said.

"Jersey City," the driver said, vape pen vanishing in a strawberry cloud. "Sir," he added, an afterthought.

"You don't have to call me _sir_ ," Roman said. His hope that the voice he was hearing, smug and faux-man-of-the-people, was not what the driver was hearing.

There was no relief from the claustrophobia as the car moved from the underground garage to the dim streets, and then crawled into the tunnel. It reminded Roman of his first visit to Brightstar Adventure Park, not the first visit, but the first one he was old enough to remember. Kendall had said he wasn't tall enough for any of the dark rides, but Roman had whined and cried and eventually thrown himself down in front of the Mansion of Mystery until Kendall relented and asked the teenagers in charge to let them in. Belted into a seat, feeling the machinery creaking beneath him, he'd been filled with dread, anticipating the ghosts and shrouded figures with grasping hands.

Nothing could be trusted. Even his Reliable Source might have her own agenda. Roman hit the star next to her name on his phone.

"Gerri?" She never had the video on--frustrating.

"Where are you Roman? If you say you're already at Parks, it'd be like early Christmas."

"Not there yet, the traffic is so bad we might be moving backwards."

"Separating Parks and Cruises is mostly a matter for our accountants, but you need to be there. The Roys are personally assuring the public that the, you know, _issues_ are Cruises only and Papa Bear isn’t going to feel you up in Storytown.”

If they were in the same room, she would be gazing at him sternly. Roman wished that they had the kind of relationship where he could ask her to turn the camera on.

"I feel like a yo-yo," he said. "Or a boomerang, or a yo-yo attached to a boomerang. I'm in Parks, curving around to Royco Tower, and then smashing back into Parks again. Are they going to make me wear the turkey costume again? Because I won't. Unless you're into that."

Gerri coughed. "I don't think we're at the poultry costume stage. Update me after the meeting."

A small triumph, brief, but definitely there: Gerri had wanted to laugh.

“I can’t help feeling that I’m being punished, not sexy punishment, which is something we need to talk about by the way, but the unsexy New Jersey punishment.” Roman stared at his phone’s dark screen.

“How does it feel to be the responsible one?” Gerri asked.

"It feels like being trapped in a tunnel with a driver who has been defying the ban on flavoured vape fluid. No offense," he added, catching the driver's glance in the mirror. "And now that we've made eye contact, I'm going to feel incredibly awkward masturbating in the back of your car."

“Am I on speaker? Hanging up now, Roman.”

“Wait--” There was something he’d wanted to say, but he always felt that the more he talked to Gerri, the further away he was from saying something true.

The driver made a sympathetic noise. “I wish everyone I drove felt the same way you do about self-pleasure. People, I tell you...” A frenzied honking drowned out the rest of his comment. “At this time of day, it would have been faster to take the train," the driver finally said.

"The train. Tell me, how dickish is it going to sound if I tell you that the idea of taking the train to New Jersey actually causes me physical pain. I mean, it is dickish and spoiled, but there's a little charm there, right?"

"Nope. Not at all." the driver said.

Roman caught sight of his own face in the mirror, mouth open in cartoon-like surprise. It was a genuine emotion, he noted.

"Listen," the driver explained. "I'm moving to Miami in two days to work for my brother. What're you gonna do, take away the 401K us drivers don't have because technically we're independent contractors?"

"I'm sorry. I don't mean that in an 'I hear you' way, I mean I'm genuinely sorry that working for Waystar Royco has been a shitty experience for you and benefits are something--"

"Just fucking with you, man. That's the dream, isn't it? Spending your last day of work telling the boss what you really think. I'm moving to Miami because this New York weather is getting to me. Those are some fucked up clouds for this time of year, I'm telling you."

"They certainly are," Roman said, and his phone beeped cheerfully as if it were agreeing.

Roman knew it had to be a sibling, but he answered anyway.

"Roman! How's it going?" Connor's voice filled the car even though the phone's volume was set at less than fifty percent. "I've been trying to contact you. I've got this new project going, it's very exciting, a way to get word of my movement out, it's a movement now, not a campaign, in case dad asks. I'm relaunching my podcast, it's very exciting, we're calling it ‘The Con’, and I want you to be one of the first guests. Not the first, that's Elon Musk, but after that."

"You want me to be the second guest? What would we talk about?"

"Not the second guest, I'm trying to get Tim Ferriss, or there's this vibration therapist that Willa went to school with, he's doing some very exciting work, but after that."

"I'm flattered, Connor, really, but it sounds like I would be exactly the wrong guest as I do not give any fucks about any of that."

"We could talk about how Kendall tried to kill dad, not literally kill him, but what he did do, and, of course, we couldn't really talk about it because of the NDAs, but it's very exciting."

"Oh, no. I'm in the tunnel, there's no reception," Roman hung up. "It's not a lie, we are in a tunnel," he said, catching the driver's eye again.

"We're gonna be here a while," the driver said. "It would have been faster--"

"Faster to take the train. I know."

"You should do the podcast. My brother and I have a podcast."  


"Of course you do," Roman sighed. He'd resolved to be less of a dick and the universe had sent him the chattiest driver in the history of transportation.

"It's called _Dos Hermanos_ because--"

"You're two brothers?"

"It's a _Breaking Bad_ podcast. Now it's _Better Call Saul_ , but it was _Breaking Bad_."

"Never seen it, but I have wondered how much your average drug user cares about quality. When he was in college, Kendall would make a big production out of 'Pure Columbian', _un regalo_ from the Colombian embassy, he'd say, in a voice that looking back was kind of racist, but in reality he would take anything anyone was offering."

"We had a whole episode on that very topic, episode 27."

Roman picked up his phone. "Call Gerri. Oh, for fuck's sake, Call. Gerri. Gerri... Oh, Gerri, hey, I was just wondering if addicts really care about the quality of their product. Thought you would know."

Why didn't the people whose faces he wanted to see ever turn on their cameras while the Connors of the world believed that everyone needed to see their foreheads?

"Is this a metaphorical question about ATN, or is this a question about actual drugs?"

"Both. Neither, I guess," he paused and tried to imagine what kind of expression might be on her face. I want you to tell me that this situation is going to be fine, he thought. Not only this meeting, everything.

Gerri's face filled the screen. She had finally turned the camera on. "Roman, what's wrong?"

"Tell me I don't have to go to this meeting. That it's okay if the driver takes me down to Miami and you fly down to join us and we podcast and drink drinks with little umbrellas all day long. Tell me that you'll still be there even if I decide not to be the charming face of a cesspool."

He waited for her to tell him that he wasn't that charming, but the stern face he adored was quiet.

"Next time we'll take the train together because rush hour traffic in the tunnel gives you too much time to think," she said. The camera switched off, but she didn't hang up. "I'll be there for you after the meeting and I'll be there for you if you ask the driver to keep driving."

At the end of that first dark ride, Kendall had held his hand as the metal doors flew open and the cars hurtled along the tracks into the blinding sunlight. The shadows, made real by his fear, were behind him. Until the ride came to its final stop, he wouldn't have to be alone.


End file.
